


Playing with Fire

by Talullah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voyeur!Sam and Voyeur!Dean have a few adventures, involving a pink chiffon dress, the adult section of a video store, and wrong directions. Crack, anyone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to j_dav for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for spn_first_time, for their 'Get a Clue' challenge. I chose:
> 
>  **Who:** Voyeur Sam / Voyeur Dean  
>  **Where:** adult section of a video store  
>  **What:** Dean wears a dress, Sam gives wrong directions
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

Sam tossed his duffel bag into the trunk and closed it. Dean was already in the driver's seat, waiting for him. With the satisfied sigh that followed a successful hunt, Sam sat by his side and they took off. They needed their sleep, but the cops had been asking a few questions and they would rather leave town before those questions turned to accusations. They had already decided on their next destination and they had plenty of time to get there, so it was not so bad. Sam searched the tape box and found a couple of Dean's old favorites. He put them on the player, and after half-an-hour of surly silence, Dean started humming so low Sam could barely hear him. Still, he smiled. He would get there.

By noon, they left the intestate and started navigating through the back country roads.

"Fucking Minnesota," Dean muttered. "Is there a state with worse signalization?"

Sam scavenged the glove compartment for a map and started studying it.

"Oh, I think I see where we are..." he said after checking the map against the few signs they saw. "We should really get GPS sometime..."

Dean groaned.

"Okay, just saying. We need to go north for about a hundred more miles, then we can decide on the best route for the rest of the way. I'll check my putter for diners between here and there."

"'kay."

Dean bit his lip and drove on.

* * *

Two hours and many side roads later, Dean was bristling. Paper maps, Google maps, the occasional passerby, none had proper directions, or rather, they had but Sam had managed to screw them all.

"It's getting dark and I'm tired of this shit. We're stopping for the night in the next town we see."

Sam sighed. "All right."

They drove on, and, to keep up with their bad luck streak, all the motels they saw were closed. As they drove around town for the second time, Dean was already puffing and muttering curses, while Sam just looked out the window in despair. Apparently there was a biker gathering in the city, but after a few more rounds they found a room in the Matador, which appropriately, had dead bulls' heads as decoration. Trying not to even contemplate how come a place like that was to be found in fucking Minnesota, Dean followed Sam into their room, grinding his teeth all the way though.

They tossed their bags at the end of their beds. Sam, trying to appease him, remarked that he had spotted a few nice places to eat as they were driving.

"Shower first? I need to relax." Dean proposed.

Sam nodded. "Wanna go first?" he guiltily offered.

Dean shrugged. "Nah, you go."

He just wanted a moment alone. He dropped to the bed and let out one long sigh. He should have let Sam drive part of the way, especially when the directions all started going south, but he had been stubborn. Then Sam had insisted on stopping four times for eating, pissing and whatnot – he had been worse than a kid on his first road trip.

He yawned and stretched and heeled off his boots. Closing his eyes, he loosened his belt and lay there. It would be just a quick nap while Sam finished his shower. He woke with Sam's fussing by the foot of the bed. Too tired to move, he only opened one eye and watched as Sam went through his duffle bag for clothes. Sam cursed as the towel around his waist fell but he ignored it.

Dean bit his lip. It was probably time to close his eyes again. The trouble was that he couldn't. He was still dead tired and couldn't have napped for more than five minutes but he couldn't take his eyes off of Sam who was now turning his back to him and putting on his shorts. Sam's dick was long and thick and looked brand new, like that had been carefully crafted and put there to decorate Sam's body. His ass, on the other hand, looked like it was made to grab.

Dean cringed at the path his thoughts were taking. Food. Shower. Not necessarily in that order. That was what he needed to think about. With a supreme effort of will he rose to his feet and went to the shower. He was so tired that he barely remembered going out to eat. When they returned, he fell to bed half-dressed and without bothering to brush his teeth.

* * *

"Dude."

Nothing. Dean just turned to the side and covered his eyes with a an arm.

"Dude," Sam pressed on. "You've been sleeping for like twelve hours now. Time to get up. I brought you doughnuts."

Dean grumbled something but Sam had it with patience. He pulled Dean’s bedding back, biting back his amusement as Dean squealed and flipped him the bird.

"Rise and shine! It's almost noon and we have to get back on the road."

"What?" Dean said, slowly sitting up.

"Dean, job, road, go."

Dean rubbed his eyes and yawned. "All right, but let me shower first. And have breakfast," he added at the grumble of his stomach.

* * *

They found a nice pancake place close to the hotel. Dean's mood slowly improved as the stack of pancakes with maple syrup sided by crispy bacon and scrambled eggs disappeared fro the plate into his stomach. The waitress was gorgeous and kept flirting with him and as they left the cafe, Dean had found a 50 bill all folded on the pavement. He guessed it was his lucky day. They returned to the car, but just as they were getting in, Dean jumped out again.

"Wait here," he told Sam.

Sam, of course, followed him, trying to devise where they were going. Dean was crossing the street in a beeline to a video store.

"Hey, Dean, man!" Sam shouted, jogging to catch up. "Don't you think you'll have another chance to drop by a video store _after_ we find xxx and the job is done. Like, dude." He did his best eye roll.

Dean just grinned. "This _is_ the job."

He pushed the door open and headed for the counter, cheerfully greeting the attendant, "Hey, Mattie! I thought it was you I saw!"

Mattie, a six foot seven, hairy monster dressed in black leather trousers went around the counter and hugged Dean, landing several friendly slaps on his back. Sam was pretty sure those would bruise. He tried not to giggle too loud as Dean tried to extract himself from Mattie's muscled arms.

"How's it going, man?" Mattie politely inquired. He cast a coveting glance in Sam's direction. "I see that you've finally switched teams..."

Dean snorted. "That's my brother, you freak."

"Oh hay," Mattie said with a big grin. Sam raised two fingers in a silent 'hello'. He'd have a ball questioning Dean about this, once they were out of the store.

"Hey, Mattie, focus," Dean said. "Remember that thing you mentioned... Well, I'm here now."

"Sure took you long enough," Mattie quipped. "I phoned you like six months ago."

"So, do you still have the same problem?"

"Yup. Well," Mattie conspicuously lowered his voice, “It’s actually gotten worse."

"How do you mean?"

Mattie looked around and leaned in conspiratorially. "Two guys ended up in the hospital and one died... auto-erotic asphyxia, like I told you."

Sam couldn't help but snorting. "You're kidding, right?"

Mattie and Dean looked at Sam dead serious. "No."

"So, did you do any of the research we discussed over the phone?" Dean asked.

"Some... I couldn't get through all of it."

The door opened and Mattie put on a fake smile to greet the costumer, an elderly man that had to be the shortest guy Sam had ever seen.

"Is he one of your regulars?" Dean asked, causing Sam to frown.

"Regulars? What _are_ we talking about here?"

Mattie ignored him. "No, he's into classic movies. I've built quite a catalog on his requests."

The costumer perused a few isles while they talked but then came closer.

"Howdy, Mr. Symonds. I've the DVD you asked for 'The Yellow Rose of Texas', the restored edition and all."

"Mattie, you are an angel," Mr. Symonds said, drawing a giggle from Sam.

All three started at Sam for one long second of reproach, then Mr. Symonds returned his attention to Mattie, who was extracting the promised DVD from under the counter and bagging it for Mr. Symonds.

"You have a nice evening, Mattie. And beware of strangers," Mr. Symonds added casting a menacing glance at Sam before leaving.

"I will! Say 'hi' to the missus!"

Mattie returned his attention to Sam and Dean. "As I was saying, I went through about a third of our adult movie catalog and nothing happened. I gave priority to the movies that the... mmm... 'affected costumers' had rented, but seriously, nothing happened. I even fell asleep in the middle of a few."

Dean nodded. "Right. And did you use the EMF reader like I told you?"

"Yes, I went through the whole collection and nothing. I scanned every inch of the store, including the backroom and the storehouse and zilch."

Dean scratched his chin. "All right. Anything apparently in common between the... 'affected costumers'?"

"No. At first this thing was hitting mostly on people from the B&D community. but lately it's just your regular Joes, guys I know are not into kinky stuff at all."

"And you would know this because..." Sam asked.

"Dude." Dean and Mattie said in unison, exchanging an eye roll.

Mattie pointed at his clothes. "Hint?"

Sam blushed, feeling stupid. "So that means you think you know the whole 'kinky community in town."

Mattie slowly shook his head with an amused, condescending smile. "Dude, I'm the king."

"Sorry?" Sam lifted his eyebrow.

"I'm the epicenter, the priest where all confess, the heart of the community, whatever you want to call it. And I'm telling you, we have a lot of freaks in this city but none of these boys had anything to do with us."

"Well, all right," Dean said, taking his hands out of his pockets. "We're going to take a look around, dig a little and we'll get back to you. Meanwhile, keep watching those tapes."

Mattie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, till they bore me to death, right. Hey, take a few with you. You know how it goes many hands make the work light."

Dean snorted. "I hope you're not implying anything by 'many hands'."

Mattie guffawed. "Well, any time..." He winked at Sam.

Dean just chuckled and pushed Sam out of the store.

"Dean," Sam cautiously asked as they entered the car. "Exactly where do you know Mattie from?"

Dean side glanced at him and grinned. "Don't you wish you knew..."

"Seriously, Dean, is there something you want to tell me? Mattie seems awfully friendly toward you..."

"You shouldn’t judge by appearances only," Dean sanctimoniously replied, as he drove off. He was wearing the kind of grin that really annoyed Sam, and so Sam decided to let it rest for now.

* * *

They spent the day tracking down and trying to interview the list to of 'affected customers' Mattie gave them, but in most places they found the doors closing on their faces. People just didn't want to speak to strangers about humiliating, frightening moments of their private lives. The first widow was the same and after only five minutes of conversation, she started crying and shut the door on their faces.

There was only one person left to interview, the second widow, but dark was falling and both decided it was time to call it a day. After a quick pizza dinner at the motel, Dean went for a shower and got all dressed up.

"I'm going out," he informed Sam, the glint in his eye and the lack of invitation to tag along telling Sam all he needed to know about Dean's plans.

"With Mattie?"

"None of your business," Dean replied winking before leaving.

* * *

Sam heard it even before he woke: the stealthy steps beneath the window, the soft scratch of a bowie knife searching for the lock, the muffled curse when it slipped. Keeping completely still, Sam blinked and contracted his muscles in the closest thing to stretching that he could afford. Dean always slept with a knife beneath his pillow; right now, Sam wished he had followed his example instead of mocking him.

The blade moved again and Sam tried to recall exactly where in the room there were weapons. Dean hadn't arrived yet, curse him, but maybe the knife was already under his pillow... it would have been the closest thing... but Sam hated risking the move only to find it not there. That left his gun in the coffee table, the ankle knife he had left in the bathroom when he took if off for showering and the fucking crossbow Dean had insisted on bringing in, which lay over the TV, across the room.

Sam felt mortified by his stupidity – sleeping unguarded and far from his weapons was a rookie's mistake, not something for a seasoned hunter. He had just been so tired when he arrived... but now he had to make a decision and move fast. The lock clicked; the window was right at the foot of Sam's bed so the only viable option was Dean’s blade, which could be there or not. Sam tensed, preparing for acting and when the window slid up and a figure started looming in, he rolled off the bed, landing on one knee and stretching to get Dean's knife. It wasn't there. Sam turned, throwing a kick at the intruder, who had meanwhile passed half its body inside, hearing the hard thud whit satisfaction. With a practiced roll, he moved away from the beds and closer to the living room area.

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" a familiar voice warned as his hands closed around his gun.

"Yeah, of course it's me."

"What are you doing, coming through the window in the dark?" Sam asked as he fumbled around for the light switch.

"Leave the lights off," Dean shot. "Just go back to be and I'll turn in too in a second."

Ignoring him, Sam found the switch and flipped it on. By the window stood his older brother, who with his bow legs and his broad shoulders not to mention the attitude, was one of the manliest men he knew, wearing a pink chiffon dress two sizes below him.

"What the fuck...?" Sam started laughing.

"Shit!" Dean turned his back to Sam and hid his face between his hands. "Listen, just go to bed and pretend this was just a dream... a nightmare, in fact."

"Like hell I will!" Sam laughed more. "What the fuck happened to you? Are you planning to go to a gay pride rally?"

"Hey, can't a man wear a dress? Look at David Bowie and that skinny kid you used to like."

"Eh, David Bowie is a terrible example and besides you hate him. And Kurt Cobain? Please?" Sam rolled his eyes as eloquently as he could.

"Well, the show's over," Dean said, trying to pull the dress over his head. The zipper was completely open but Dean’s shoulders were so wide that the waistline got stuck there. The waves of pink chiffon completely covered his face and he started walking around, bumping into things, trying to break free. Sam took pity on him and tried to yank it off, to no effect.

"Ouch, stop that," Dean screeched, escaping into the bathroom. Sam started laughing harder when he saw that underneath the dress Dean was wearing nothing but a very large erection.

"Ouch, that looks uncomfortable," Sam teased.

"Fuck off," Dean quipped from the bathroom. "Just go to bed already, will ya?"

"No way." Sam walked to the bathroom door and peeked inside. Dean had taken was energetically brushing his teeth, as the water warmed for the shower.

"Man, what the fuck is happening...?" he asked, still giggling.

"Nothing," Dean muttered around the toothbrush. He spit out the contents of his mouth, rinsed it and closed the door on Sam's face.

Sam opened it right back. "Man, you're starting to worry me."

"Jesus, Sam, I’m fine. I just need some time alone. Will you fuck the fuck off already?

Sam stepped back, pulling the door behind him, and went to his bed. He lay there thinking. Dean had been in some adventure, all right but it would probably take him weeks to extract all the details. On the other hand, Dean in a dress, pink of all colors would give him fodder for teasing for the rest of their lives.

After some moments, he realized that the door must have opened slightly because he could hear Dean and it sounded as if we were in pain. Wondering if Dean had gotten hurt, he got up and walked right up to the bathroom. Dean was sitting on the toilet lid, the dress all rolled up around his waist and his face scrunched up in a grimace. His right hand worked furiously on his cock. A part of Sam knew he should leave immediately but he stood there noticing how the veins in Dean0s neck bulged, how his lips looked wet and redder, how his freckles almost vanished under the blush. He had seen Dean naked more time than he could count, but never aroused like this. Dean's cock glistened; his thumb brushed the swollen head every once in a while. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, driving himself faster and faster until he came with a strangled moan.

Sam scuttled back as fast as he could, before dean could see him and slipped back into bed. He adjusted himself, realizing he was physically aroused. "Dammit, Sam, it was the 'research' porn you watched all night long," he said to himself, closing his eyes.

When Dean came back to the room, Sam pretended to be asleep. He heard him dressing quickly, put out the light and slipped into bed. He heard Dean's sighing with exhaustion once, then breathing more and more regularly until he was deeply asleep.

Sam waited for hours for sleep to come. Eventually his cock gave up on the hopes for any attention but his mind reeling for a long time with images that he simply could not erase.

* * *

"Dean?"

Dean finished chewing his bacon and looked straight into Sam's eyes. "No."

"I didn't ask anything," Sam protested.

"You were going to." Dean tossed his toast to the plate and got up. "I'll be waiting for you outside."

Sam sighed and finished his cereal before following him.

They drove to the last house to interview Mrs. Calder, the second widow, in heavy silence. A fortyish brunette, wearing a turtleneck sweater and the ugliest long skirt Sam had ever seen answered the door. The woman invited them in and answered their questions without any inhibitions. Fifteen minutes later, Sam and Dean had learned all about the last vic's extra normal home life and how much of a devastating shock his death had been.

They left the house, promising to keep her current with anything they might find.

"Well, that was another waste of time," Sam remarked, trying to break the icy silence.

"Maybe not. Did you see what that woman grew in her garden?"

Sam snorted. "What, besides wearing dresses you're now into landscaping? Seriously, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Dean flipped him the bird. "Yeah, genius, I'm into landscaping and this is why I saw that she had nightshade, monkshood, hemlock, aconite, and datura just to mention a few. I'm sure there were a lot more that I just didn't recognize."

"Wait, are you saying that bible holder Mrs. Calder is a witch?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe she just has very unusual tastes in garden decoration.”

"So what do you say? Do we come by later on?"

"Yeah, I think we should."

* * *

Sam watched as Dean called Mattie to check with him if he knew anything about Mrs. Calder. Other than being really religious and a sticking like a sore thumb in their liberal town, there was nothing remarkable about her.

Dean dropped Sam off at the motel and took off, supposedly for a drive. Sam suspected he wanted to be all but near him to avoid awkward questions about the dress. He threw himself to his bed and tried to nap, to prepare for the stakeout, but he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dean stroking his cock, his handsome face contorting with something that Sam wasn't sure to be pleasure at all. He shifted in the bed, well aware that he was getting hard.

The stack of porno DVDs on the bedside table seemed to mock him. "Screw it, he said, picking up the laptop and sliding one in. It was arousing in a kind of boring way. Sam fast forwarded to the penetration bits every time and by the time the movie was over he had his hand down his pants but was far from coming yet. He glanced at the pile, but the next one was something called 'Greedy Bottoms'. Sam cringed. But then again, why not, he thought. Might cool him off.

It didn't. He had never been interested in ass play or anything further. Dean's early tales of sexual explorations had made him a bit of a prude. Now, he was amazed to see what could be done in those ways, and aroused too. He tried to tell himself that was the consequence of the first movie, but he knew he was lying to himself. He watched the whole movie, no fast forwarding, in abject fascination, but despite the incredible pressure in his groin, the most he did was to open the first buttons of his fly. He refused to masturbate to this.

And yet, as soon as the movie was over, there he was, flapping the laptop shut, tossing it to the other bed and pushing his jeans open enough to give him free access to this cock. He spat on his hand and jerked himself roughly, keeping his eyes wide open, focusing on the ceiling to keep out the images in his head, Dean jerking off in a dress, Dean kneeling before him, taking him like the guy in the movie, Dean’s lips sucking on his cock. Sam came with that image. He got up and went to the bathroom to clean himself. The man staring back at him in the mirror was a perfect stranger, a freak who masturbated to images of his own brother.

He washed his hands, scraped the semen from his belly with a finger and washed his hands again, then washed his face. The man in the mirror now had his face wet and behind him, his brother stared, mouth agape.

"Dean." Sam turned, forgetting his jeans were still open. They slid lower on his hips but he caught them in time and fastened them, looking down to avoid Dean's gaze. He glanced up again and smoothed his shirt. Dean was still standing there.

"Right, sorry," he said going back into the room. "I tried to find out more about our friendly neighborhood witch..."

Sam followed him out, still too worked out to think clearly. Dean should be cracking all sorts of jokes about finding him with his hand on the cookie jar, but no, he was embarrassed, flushed even, and avoiding the subject. Sam wondered for how long he had been watching him.

"Hum?" he said when Dean called to him.

"I said, I think she has something to do with the dress."

"What dress?" Sam asked, coming out of his stupor. "Ah, the dress!" He regretted his exclamation as soon as it came out. "Why?" he asked completely confused.

"It was a cursed object. It showed up in Mattie's club and everyone who wore it..." Dean trailed off and gazed at his shoes.

"What did the dress do?"

"It gives extra sexual potency."

Sam giggled. "And so you just had to try it on before destroying it. Do tell me you have destroyed that thing."

"Yeah, I've destroyed it," Dean said not looking amused at all.

"Dean, how many times did Dad warn us about cursed objects?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, just give it a rest."

Sam paused for a few moments, trying to find another approach. "So, what makes you think that the dress has something to do with Mrs. Calder?"

"Just a gut feeling. The ladies in her church said she loved sewing."

Sam snorted. "Come on man, you have to have more than that..."

Dean blushed and looked away. "Apparently, this is not the first cursed object in town that has... erm... sexual properties. Don't you find it odd that a small town, no matter how liberal it is, all of a sudden gets flooded with magical sex toys?"

"Don't even think of trying them all," Sam teased. "But what other toys were there. And what was the downside of the dress – there is always one, you know."

"Well, there have been cock rings that hug too tight, dildos that have to be surgically removed, anal beads associated with diarrhea... trust me, you don't want to hear about the details of that one."

Sam cringed. "Yeah, I don't. What about the dress?"

"Umm, nothing... it worked just right."

"You looked like you were in pain."

"Well, after five hours on the brink without coming you'd look in pain too."

Sam wasn't convinced but he let it die. "So, how come Mattie didn't put all of this together?"

"Mattie was convinced it had something to do with those tapes, so he wasn't paying attention to sex sessions gone awry."

"Hum. I just don't get her. Mrs. Calder I mean."

"Don't waste your brain thinking about it. The witch is going down. Tonight."

The special venom Dean injected in the words made Sam suspect there was more to the dress business than his brother had confessed but he let it die.

* * *

Night fell and they drove off to Mrs. Calder's home. She came out to the front garden once and picked up some herbs then went back inside. All the lights were out in the house. They decided to wait for a while longer and when they were sure that everyone in the neighborhood was inside, caring for their own business, they went in.

After a quick search, they concluded that she wasn't on the ground or the first floor.

"I hate witches," Dean muttered.

They found the stairway to the basement and cautiously went down. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam of how clichéd the setting was, darkness lit with a few black and red candles. Mrs. Calder was sitting with her back to them.

"I was waiting for you."

"Oh please, give us a break," Dean impatiently said, holding his gun up to her.

"You think you can fool me, but I have a gift from God and I can see plain through you and your incestuous desires." She spat at Dean.

Unflappable, Dean wiped his face. "If you have a gift from God what the hell are you doing consorting with demons?" He circled around her and kicked her altar to the ground.

"There are no demons here, only angels of the lord telling me what to do with the likes of you."

"Oh man, she truly believes this crap." Dean whined to Sam.

"So what do we do?" Sam asked. They couldn't just kill her, not like that.

The witch made their choice easier by pulling a knife. "You're just like all the others, even my husband. You just think with your cocks, sinking into depravity." She lunged at Dean but he avoided her. She landed on her knees, immediately scuttling to a corner, her back against the wall. She had her hands behind her back, hiding something and started muttering an incantation in what sounded like ancient Sumerian.

Dean tried to lunge for her but he was paralyzed.

"You fucking witch," he spat, struggling against the invisible bonds.

Sam tried to set himself free but he found that he too was trapped. Footfalls sounded on the stairway but Mrs. Calder didn't mind them. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Mattie coming in with a smug grin.

"Mattie," Dean yelped. "Look out!"

Mattie grinned. "Hey baby," he greeted Mrs. Calder. "Need any help?"

Mrs. Calder ignored him, continuing with her incantation.

"...the fuck?" Dean asked exchanging an alarmed glance with Sam.

"Sophie and I have a long standing arrangement, ain't it so, babe?" Mattie enlightened them.

"Why did you call us to hunt her, then?" Dean managed to utter from behind teeth gritted with pain.

"Ooh, Dean, you're such a naive little soul," Mattie scorned. "That thing you did last time we met... buddy, you had it coming."

"It was a fucking joke!" A drop of blood trickled from Dean's left nostril.

"Well, it cost you. One thing I have is a great memory. You're going to pay like the others. Sophs gonna show it to you."

Dean twisted with pain, but Sam felt the grip on him loosen. Sophie was losing her concentration with all the conversation. He slipped a hand to his ankle and found the knife in his boot. Mattie only saw the movement when the knife was already flying towards Sophie's chest.

"Nooo!" he shouted, kneeling beside her. "I'll fucking kill you," he said, turning to Sam but it was too late. From where he lay Dean kicked up, catching Mattie in the chin. He probably bit his own tongue, as blood gushed forth. Sam moved fast and grabbed his arms from behind, before he could lunge for Dean. They struggled, rolling on the floor, then standing up, pushing against each other. Mattie was taller than Sam and stronger than an Ox, and despite the odds of two against one, Mattie seemed to be invincible... until he slipped in Sophie's blood, falling with his head against the corner of the altar stone. The loud 'crack' left little room for doubts, but even so Dean approached Mattie and searched for a pulse in his throat.

"Nothing. We'd better be gone." he said to Sam.

"Man..." Sam sighed, heading for the stairs.

* * *

Everything went as usual post hunt. A shower, shared silence over beer, feet propped on the table, boring TV, bed. Then breakfast and the road, and Dean still silent, not excited at all about the next hunt, not cranking up the music, not making tasteless jokes about anything. By noon, Sam reached the end of his tether.

"What?" he impatiently asked.

"What, what?" Dean reapplied after a few seconds.

"What's up yours? I mean, the hunt went fine in the end, despite that we got to learn that you have like the worst friends ever. Where did you find that guy anyway, and what happened between the two of you?"

Dean's freckles disappeared behind the instant blush. Sam's irritation almost waned at the sight of an extremely embarrassed Dean.

Dean slowly shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that."

"That's so typical of you," Sam complained.

"Sam, not just now, okay?" Dean looked at Sam, pleading with his eyes.

Sam frowned, and landed an angry punch against the dashboard, but he relented.

* * *

By the time they found a place to spend the night Sam was seriously worried. Dean looked sad as a bird whose voice had been stolen. Something was up.

He waited until they were in bed, in the dark. Places like these, at times like these reminded him of their days before Stanford when they were just two boys who know too much and had no one else.

"Dean, talk to me, man," Sam pleaded. "I won't pass any judgments, you know."

Dean grunted and turned his back to Sam, pretending to be asleep.

"Come on man, you can't lie to me, you know that," Sam insisted.

Dean let out a long, loud sigh. "The dress..."

"What about it?"

"It did have a downturn." Dean sighed again before continuing. "Promise you won't laugh."

"I promise," Sam said, his lips involuntarily curling up.

"It gave me the longest, hardest erection of my life, but now..."

"Now what?"

"I can't get it up." Dean said so low that Sam thought he misheard him.

"You what?" he asked.

"See, I knew you'd laugh. That bastard gave me that dress on purpose to make my life miserable before he tried to kill me."

Sam heard Dean punching his pillow.

"Is there anything we can do to reverse it? I mean, you've burned the dress and its makers are dead... maybe it's a matter of time..."

"I don't think it is... Mattie was a vindictive son of a bitch and I had the chance to see it firsthand more than once. I should have known better when he greeted me as if was seeing his long lost brother..."

"What did you do to him anyway?" Sam asked, sitting up as quietly as he could. He wanted to reach out and touch Dean, squeeze his shoulder.

"Nothing special. He laid his moves on me, and I told him to take a hike, mmm, well, I may have been a bit of a jerk, and it was at this joint where a lot of people we knew hung around, so poor Mattie's feelings got hurt, plus his bitch didn't like it and dumped him... But I honestly thought he was over it. At least we parted on friendly terms..."

Sam tentatively laid his hand on Dean's arm. "See, I didn't laugh," he said, half-joking.

"Jerk," Dean said.

"Bitch." Sam crossed the space between the beds and crawled into Dean's as when they were boys.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Dean protested even as he scuttled to make room for Sam.

"You look like you need a hug," Sam joked dropping his arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Get off, fucker"

"At least I still can get off..." Sam didn't hide his giggle.

"Fuck!" Dean pulled away from Sam and curled up at the edge of the mattress. "Sam, just go back to your bed."

Sam rolled to his back and covered his eyes with an arm. "It will be fine... The world would collapse without sex-on-wheels Dean Winchester around."

Dean shrugged. "If you've finished laughing you can go back to your bed."

"I'm not laughing, Dean... just trying to lighten up the mood." Sam turned to his side. "What she said..."

"Man, let's not even go there," Dean snapped.

"What makes you think you know what I was going to say?"

"I know you inside and out."

Sam's hand found its way to Dean's side. "Then you know what I've been thinking."

"There are limits to everything," Dean said.

"You were thinking it too, even before that, weren't you?"

"Thoughts are just thoughts. It's not a big deal. It's like prison – you don't really like guys but you spend so much time around them that sooner or later you're going to have shower sex."

Sam punched him slightly on the shoulder. "Thanks – I really enjoyed being compared to some butt ugly hairy prison dude."

"Don't forget the tattoos..."

Sam snorted. His hand lay idle and empty on the mattress between them. Despite Dean’s rejection, he wanted more than ever to touch him.

"We're almost like married, you know?" he tried.

"I know. Sometimes I think I should have just left you in Stanford."

"What? And miss all this? The cheap motels with the crazy decoration, the greasy food, the monsters lurking in the dark…"

"Yeah..."

"Dean..." Sam meant to say something but the words flew. He pulled on Dean's arm, making him turn to lie on his back.

"Let me kiss you," Sam asked, leaning on his elbow.

Dean just stared at him, his eyes gleaming in the dark. Sam took it for a tacit consent and leaned down. Their lips brushed once before Dean turned his head, a quick scraping of chapped skin, nothing out of the ordinary, but Sam felt the electricity burning thought every one of his circuits.

"You're crazy," Dean said, "and you should really get back to your bed."

Defeated, Sam dropped his head next to dean's taking in the warmth and the scent of shampoo and cheap cologne. He moved like an old man, slowly turning, his feet leaving the bed and searching the floor first. A strong hand on his arm froze him half-way out of the bed.

There were no words. Sam slithered back into bed so fast that it creaked. Dean avoided his lips when he tried to kiss him in the mouth, but Sam ignored him and kiss whatever else he could reach, starting with stubbly jaw line, then strong neck, then stubble again, chaffing his lips. His hands only found willingness, as they searched up and down the hard body Sam had seen so many times but never touched, not like this, like a lover. Dean just held on to him, whispered loose words that Sam didn't really get. There was a voice in his head telling him how wrong it all was, sleeping with a guy (and Sam winced thinking about that one experiment gone wrong in his freshman year), sleeping with his own brother (and Sam had to bite Dean's shoulder to cast out of his head the image of John staring at him with disappointment); Sam shut his conscience off when Dean timidly brushed his hand against his cock: the only voice he needed to hear was right there. He grasped Dean's wrist, urging him to pull stronger and sharper, before the thought of retribution the favor occurred to him.

Clasping a handful of hard ass, Sam scuttled closer, twinning his legs with Dean’s. His hand sought Dean's cock, but Dean pushed him off.

"What..?" Sam asked, trying to discern Dean's expression in the relative dark.

Dean buried his face in the pillow. "I can't."

The moment was broken. Sam understood that Dean had come to his senses and sighed disappointedly. He was aching hard but jerking off in his own bed was out of the question. In the moment of pause he took before trying to leave Dean's bed, salvation came.

"I've wanted this for forever," Dean said, his voice so raspy Sam knew he was on the brink of something. "Not that I thought about it all the time but deep down, it was always there... And now I can't. Not even for this. I'm really finished, Sam."

Sam understood. "Shh, don't think about it. I'll take care of you."

He kissed Dean and this time Dean let him, slightly opening his lips. They kissed for a long time, until Dean gently pushed Sam back a little.

"It's no use..." he said.

"Dean..." Sam started, not really knowing what he wanted to say next.

Dean tried to pull away but Sam held him close.

"Dean, even just this... It's good enough, fuck, more than good."

Dean bit his lip. "I don't know. You're all hot and bothered and I'm..."

Sam touched him gently, feeling the flaccid cock in his hand at odds with Dean's fast breathing and racing heart.

"Could it be all in your head? Because you believed the curse and because last time was so painful?"

"Jeez, thanks, Dr. Freud," Dean said irritated, shoving Sam's hand off. "Don't you think I thought of that on my own?"

"Relax... I'm just trying to help."

"Well don't, okay?"

"Fine." Sam lay on his back, seething at Dean's stubbornness, but still raging hard. He pushed the bedding down, then his boxers, then took himself in hand, staring at Dean in open challenge. His hand started moving up and down, unabashed. He knew he had Dean's full attention when his brother stare broke from his eyes and moved to his cock. Sam worked his hand, self-consciously at first, then freer and faster, reveling in the moment, in the closeness of Dean, the feel of sweat droplets trickling down his skin, the gaze heavy on his cock, the soft pants coming from his side. He made it last for as long as he could without being monotonous. He touched his body, twisted a nipple, ran his hand up and down his rippling abdomen, cupped his balls. His eyes closed a few times with pleasure, but when he opened them again Dean still stared at his body, at his hands, his cock. His nostrils flared, as if to take Sam's scent in and that made Sam's stomach clench. Sam ignored him and continued until he _had_ to come.

White ribbons of come landed on his belly. He wanted to clean himself and sleep but there was Dean. He looked at his brother through half-lidded eyes. Dean's cheeks were flushed, his full lips, reddened from kissing were half-open, and his hand...

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

Dean looked down following Sam's eyes. Before he could react, Sam pushed him flat on the bed and ground his hipbone against Dean's harness.

"See, told you it was all in your head," he said before shoving his tongue inside Dean's mouth. "I just needed to get you distracted."

"Know-it-alls are kind of a turn off, you know?" Dean jabbed.

Sam ignored him and moved down, now wasting any time on subtleties: they had had more than enough foreplay already. He pushed Dean's boxers down, removed his hand and took Dean's cock in his mouth without wasting a second. He tried to do the job the best he could, considering his limited experience. Judging from the sounds Dean made, he wasn't being half-bad. He tried harder, and just as his jaw was starting to burn with tension, Dean pushed him away and came grunting Sam's name.

* * *

In the morning, their routine was followed unaltered. When they were in the car and driving away, Sam decided it was time to start talking.

"Dean, what happened last night..."

"-Is better left unanalyzed, Dr. Freud," Dean finished.

"But-"

"Don’t."

"But I just wanted to know-" Sam shot.

"Nope."

"Never again?" Sam asked incredulous.

"No, just not right now... Besides, I owe you one."

Dean winked and Sam knew it would be all right.

 

_Finis  
November 2008_


End file.
